Imaginary Friends
by GoddessOfTechnology
Summary: "After was a turbulent time, that was sure. With him now in the picture, Jack had to watch his every step, every word, and every breath. Each mistake he made, no matter how minor, was instantly punished. That was alright though, wasn't it? It was what best friends did, after all: tell you where you went wrong so you could improve." (rated T for emotional and physical abuse)
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own RotG**

* * *

Jack still remembered Before.

Before, in his opinion, had been much better than After. Although Before had been lonely, and cold, and silent, and empty, at least he had been safe. Unwanted and unloved, yes, but safe. Unlike After. Not that After wasn't safe as well, of course, but...it wasn't safe in a "safe" way, if that made any sense, which it probably didn't.

He shivered.

Before had been better, that was sure. Before had been gray and dull and boring, but gray was better than red, and boring was better than fear. He hadn't been content with Before, though. Hence why he now had After, which was red and exciting and fiery and _frightening_ and _painful_ and _paralyzing_ -

Breathe, Jack, breathe. What would Frostbite say if he could see you now?

 _He'd say I'm pathetic. A worm. Weak. Incompetent. And more, he'd be right._

Exactly. So what do we do now?

 _Keep calm. Stay emotionless. Emotions make you weak, and easy to break down._

Good. Very good. You've learned your lesson well, I see. Now, where was I?

Ah, yes. After.

After was a turbulent time, that was sure. With Frostbite now in the picture, Jack had to watch his every step, every word, and every breath. Each mistake he made, no matter how minor, was instantly punished.

That was alright though, wasn't it? It was what best friends did, after all: tell you where you went wrong so you could improve-

Now, Jack. What did Frostbite say about freezing windows?

 _...He said it's rude and...inconsiderate. I can't help it, though!_

What do you mean, you can't help it? You certainly helped it before.

 _It's my powers...My new believers…I swear it's not on purpose!_

Wrong answer, Jack. Powers must always be suppressed. Even if it hurts. We wouldn't want to accidentally injure or kill someone, now, would we?

 _...No._

Good boy. Now don't do it again. Where was I-

...What did you say, dear? No, not you, Jack, I'm talking to _them._ Did _you_ say something? Come on, speak up, I promise I don't bite!

...Ah, you're wondering who this "Frostbite" is I keep mentioning, are you? Pardon me, darling, I have a bad habit of telling stories in the wrong order. It confuses people, you see.

Frostbite, to answer your question is...well, no one at all, really. At least, to anyone except Jack. To Jack, he's vividly, even _painfully_ real.

He's...well, I suppose you could say he's belief gone wrong. Spirits and belief depends on one another, you see, so sometimes spirits foster belief, but other times it's the other way around. Like with Frostbite. Belief created him. A child's belief, to be a exact. _Jack's_ belief, to be even more exact-

Jack. No. Stop distracting Tooth's fairies.

 _I can't help it if they faint every time I smile!_

Have you considered simply not smiling? Really, Jack, is this how you repay your friends? By delaying their work? How will Queen Toothiana complete her rounds without her workers?

 _...You're right. I'll just apologize to Tooth-_

 _Queen Toothiana_ , darling. _Do_ stay polite. And no, that's not a good idea. You'll distract her as well, with your teeth. Better to leave now, before you cause more damage.

 _...Alright._

Good boy. Where was I? Ah, Frostbite.

You see, darling, Jack was _so_ desperate for companionship. He couldn't be happy with how things were Before. It was so _boring_ , you see. Not to mention depressing.

So, he decided to spice things up a little. With an imaginary friend. Except now, "imaginary" is a tad inaccurate, and "friend" isn't quite extreme enough...At least on, ahem, _one_ side of the equation…Which isn't Jack's…

Don't look at me like that, Jack, darling. You've _seen_ the way Frostbite looks at you, don't you deny it! Not that I know what he sees in you, of course, but whatever makes him happy, I suppose…You _are_ making him happy, aren't you, dear? Completely, unutterably happy?

Hmm...I don't like that face. I'll have to ask Frostbite later. If you're lying to me, by any chance, I think you know what will happen, dearheart. And it won't be good for you.

...Dear me, but I am loosing track of myself, aren't I? I apologize unreservedly, sweetheart. I don't normally talk to many people, and certainly not two at once. You wanted to know more about Frostbite, yes?

Well, there's really not that much more to tell. Frostbite isn't really a spirit in his own right, you know, he's still partly imaginary. Hence why only Jack (and myself, I suppose) can see him. Which is good, especially with Jack's new coworkers. That boy is adorable, but he's clumsy as a new-born duckling when it comes to common courtesy, so it's good that Frostbite and I can keep him in line. I doubt his coworkers would approve of our methods if they could _see_ them-

Jack, what _do_ you think you're doing? It's close to Christmas, North does not need you stepping on his toes-

September _is_ close to Christmas, you buffoon. For Moon's sake, _stay away from the Pole already_. You're sure to freeze something, or break something, or cause general chaos, and that would be a rude thing to do to someone as nice as North, wouldn't it?

Good, I knew you would see reason. Still, you were rebellious there for a little, weren't you? You should know better: after all, Frostbite and I are _far_ more experienced than you are.

Well, if you _promise_ never to do it again…

There, there. You know we love you, don't you Jack? We just want to help you. I'm not upset, I promise.

...Would you like to play a game, Jack?

Yes?

Very well, then. Sorry, love, it's been _wonderful_ talking with you, but I'm afraid I _have_ to go. Ta ta for now!

Yes, Jack, I'm coming!

* * *

 **A/N: Narrator is the Wind, BTW. She's got a bit of a thing for Frostbite, and she speaks like Rarity from MLP. I watched an episode from the show once, when I was younger [my friend forced me] and the one thing I still remember through the haze is Rarity's accent. I've trained myself to do a passable imitation. Emphasis on "passable".  
**

 **Also, I have no idea why this story switched from third-person, to first-person, to...first-person omniscient? I dunno. Let's just leave it at "Wind sucks as a narrator".**

 **Frostbite is an OC. He's like Jack's imaginary friend turned pseudo-real. Plus he's only visible to Jack. Meaning he gets to scratch, bite, and pinch Jack in public if Jack "screws up", and no one knows (as long as Jack controls his expressions well enough, which, believe me, he _does)._**

 **I may or may not continue this, depending on how it's received.**

 **...Review? Please?**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:**

 **Bold: Jack's thoughts.**

 _ **Bold italics underline: Jack's negative thoughts/ Frostbite's influence.**_

 **Disclaimer: I don't own RotG. WHICH IS PROBABLY A GOOD THING.**

* * *

It was cold, and he shivered. Noticing his movement, his tormentor grinned, voice drawling with sarcasm and mockery, sharp like a honey-covered razor blade. " _Cold,_ Jackie?"

Knowing better, he shook his head firmly, clutching his glass of water tighter. His gaze lingered on his four new companions (and how warm they seemed, how homely and comfortable, while he sat cold and shivering and bleeding on the edge of the feather-littered window-seat), and he curled up tighter among the feathers, ignoring the swift, painful, and impossible-to-detect smack to the head that followed in response to his show of weakness.

He didn't care anymore about impressions. Once upon a time, Before, it might have mattered to him whether his new coworkers saw him as a weakling, but now he was too depressed and in pain to really give a damn about anything at all.

As a result, he drowned out the chatter around him, the talking and the laughing and the continual buzzing of fairies past his ears (interspersed as it was by the occasional gasp and feathery thud). None of it really counted, anyway. All of it was just white noise, as inconsequential as flies droning on the window sill.

"Thinking again?"

He started, accidentally spilling some water (which almost instantly froze) on himself, before hastily looking around to see if anyone had noticed his reaction. No one was looking at him, not even the ever-observant Sandy, so he supposed that was a no. He glared at his "stalker" weakly, and went back to sipping his drink.

Having an invisible "friend" definitely came with its disadvantages. A lot of disadvantages.

.. _ **.**_ _ **Although he shouldn't be complaining: it said a lot for Frostbite's patience that he'd stuck around this long. Two hundred years, to be exact, which was enough to drive anyone mental. Really, Jack should be grateful.**_

He shivered again and attempted to block out the negative thoughts, instead trying to focus on the Guardians' inane chatter. Tooth was ranting again about teeth **did she think about anything** **else,** Bunny and North were arguing **what are you doing you're supposed to help me please** **help,** and Sandy was playing chess with the fairies who were on break **look here please if you'd just look you'd find out something was wrong please just** ** _look_ -**

 _ **You don't need help! Don't deserve help! Go back to your hole and stay there, you fool!**_

He drained the glass of water, tilting his head back, trying to ignore Frostbite's hungry gaze **stop looking at me like that I'm not some prize to be won** ** _oh who are you kidding you're lucky he's even glancing at you_ ,** and mumbled some hasty excuse _**not that anyone was listening**_ , before backing out the window, Frostbite following close behind.

He missed the concerned glances sent his way, he missed the bloodstains left behind on the feather-littered window-seat, and he missed the significant looks shared between the fairies.

The didn't matter, though. No one could help him. No one at all. _**And no one would ever try to, for ever and ever and ever.**_

* * *

"We need to talk."

Frostbite paused, looking up from the tormented bird he was plucking. "Hmm? What about?"

Jack winced in sympathy for the poor thing, but avoided that particular subject. Interfering with Frostbite's little victims never ended well. "You need to stop...harassing me in front of the other Guardians."

"Oh?" The question was drawn-out and derisive, as slender fingers ripped out a few more feathers from the twitching and bleeding sparrow, before letting them go to drift down to the cold gray of the dark cave floor. "And why is that?"

Jack's finger's itched to rip the bird out of Frostbite's hands. He cleared his throat, hoping to distract himself. "I nearly slipped up, back at the Tooth Palace. If they find out-"

"Then don't slip up. It's as simple as that." Gray eyes examined the sparrow critically, before a few more feathers were torn from its belly, drawing a plaintive squeak from the poor creature.

Jack opened his mouth to argue, but a warning gust from Wind stopped him. Sighing, Jack dropped the subject, and went back to frosting over the cuts crisscrossing pale flesh.

* * *

He pretended not to see the dead, bare sparrow tied to the crook of his staff next morning, simply untying it and throwing it aside, but to him the threat behind it was clear as day.

 _Don't say a word, or you'll end up like the sparrow. Broken, and unable to fly away._

Jack wanted to be able to fly away, so he didn't say a word, and no one was the wiser...

 _ **...For ever, and ever, and ever.**_

* * *

 **A/N: Same rules apply here as for Soul Stealer: a collection of short drabbles, all vaguely connected, all revolving around this idea. Just warning you, in case you get confused.  
**

 **Also, if you are still confused, don't worry, you're not alone. I'm confused as well.**

 **...Review? Please?**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I'm working on a longer version of this, which I will eventually post as its own chapter. I just liked the way the shorter version turned out, hence why I'm posting it now.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own RotG. Also, the new cover image is in the public domain, as it is a picture by Gustave Dore.**

* * *

There is blood on his hands.

Not his own, no. That would be too simple, too precise. No _, this_ is the blood of his coworkers, and it paints the pallor of his hands a vivid red.

Not that he's complaining. Red against white makes for such a lovely contrast. Maybe he should add some more!

He giggles, a high-pitched sound, and turns to the helpless spirit lying at his feet. Slate-gray eyes stare up at him, bright with terror, and he laughs again. His gaze falls on the torn, mangled bodies of the other Guardians. He tried to make them see. Tried to show them how much he needed help. It worked, though, until Frostbite killed them.

 _Don't say a word, or you'll end up like the sparrow. Broken, and unable to fly away._

"Hey, Frostbite. How'd you like to be a sparrow for the night?"

His victim's eyes widen as realization sets in, a choked scream leaving his lips, but the icy blade is already buried in his throat, and he leaves the world the same way he entered it: with a sob and a gurgle and a tear.

* * *

The Wind howls, but it no longer controls him, so that's okay.

He looks down at the two halves of his staff, one held tight in either hand. The pain hasn't quite faded from his chest yet, but time heals all wounds, so he thinks he'll be alright, in the end.

After all, at least he's free.

...Free...It's so long since he was last free. Since Before, when everything was gray.

Everything is gray now. Except the parts that are red.

He blinks. He'd never seen red, Before. It was always gray. Red means After, not Before…

"...Oh."

Everything is red.

Nothing has changed.

Everything is red and exciting and fiery and _frightening_ and _painful_ and _paralyzing_ -

 _And nothing has changed._

 _He still is mad._

 _Once mad, always mad, always to eternity._

 _Except now...he's alone again._

He finds himself laughing, his sounds drowned out by the howling of the wind. Because he's a sparrow, and he's free, but he's broken, so he can't fly. So he laughs and he laughs and he laughs…

 _...And the world._

 _Keeps._

 _Turning._

* * *

 **A/N: If any of you lovely people have any horror/angst-related prompts to give me, feel free to include them in your review. I'm accepting prompts right now, and I need as many as I can possibly get. The only requirement is that they don't contain romance, and they should be horror-related for preference (interesting mythical creatures are always welcome, btw). Also, they should be Jack-centric, if possible.**

 **...Review? Along with prompts?**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: I...have no idea anymore. Really. If y'all end up hating this, I get it, I totally do.**

 **Set before Chapter 3, and after Chapter 2.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own RotG.**

* * *

 _Crack_

Stars exploded across his vision as his head collided sharply and painfully with the rough cave wall. He yelped, a short, harsh sound, before the force pinning him against the wall suddenly tossed him to the floor with a snarl. A kick was soon to follow, colliding with his ribs and certainly bruising them.

" _Pathetic_."

He panted as he struggled to rise, only to be knocked down again by another kick from his antagonist. His breath came short and painful, but he couldn't resist making a small jab. "Kicking a downed man? I think you're the pathetic one here, Frostbite."

Gray eyes blazed with deadly fury, glaring at him in burning hatred, before Frostbite abruptly stomped on the fingers of his left hand. The heavy boots of his tormentor were quick to crush them, and he was unable to restrain the cry of pain that followed, as bone was shattered and flesh was torn.

"Don't call me pathetic, kid. I'm stronger and faster than you will _ever_ be."

"By all means, keep thinking that."

Silence. His tormentor paused, an unreadable expression flickering across his face.

Then, pain.

The heavy steel-capped boots, clinking madly due to the chains that were draped over them, collided brutally with his ribs, and a thin snap echoed ominously through the cave. He cried out again when the boots then found a new target, his right wrist, which they were quick to splinter with a sound like a broken two-by-four.

The real action, though, started when the knife was brought into play.

Screams echoed off the walls as the blade ripped and teared through cloth and skin and veins like they were paper. He yelped, screamed, and whimpered as blood trickled away to add to the ever growing puddle beneath himself, but he knew better than to even attempt to struggle. He simply lay there, a tormented soul on the verge of shattering, as the knife slashed his body and his hope to shreds…

 _ **...For ever, and ever, and ever.**_

* * *

Later on, a few hours after Frostbite finished his "fun", he would find enough strength to drag himself away to heal. Later, he would fix himself until he looked perfectly fine and happy. Later, three days later to be precise, he would show up at the bimonthly Guardians meeting with a cast on his wrist and bandages on his fingers, and no one would be the wiser ("Just a bad run-in with a lamia, guys. Nothing to worry about.").

All this would be proof of strength. Of power, of courage, and of tremendous resistance to pain.

At least, that was what he liked to tell himself. It was more tactful an explanation than simply him being too frightened to even think of asking for help.

Then again, who could blame him, when his curse sat always by his side, bloodstained hand on his shoulder and stern warning in his cold gray eyes?

* * *

 **A/N: Frostbite wears black, steel-capped knee-high boots which are decorated with small chains and buckles. They clink ominously when he walks.  
**

 **...Review? Please?**


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